


Surprises

by Blackened_Wings



Series: Retired War Hero [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Civilian Shepard, F/M, Post-Mass Effect 3, Retired Shepard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackened_Wings/pseuds/Blackened_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Shepard has retired and started to grow used to a life sans fighting, just when he's accepted and started to enjoy civilian life, everything changes. Loosely connected to "Hero-Man."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In his retirement, Shepard had grown content.

It was four years after the end of the Reaper wars. He still remembered them vividly in his dreams each night, but it was easy enough to forget when the sun was shining as brightly as it was and the warmth kissed his scarred skin. And he could hear her in the kitchen, singing quietly as she prepared whatever she was keeping secret from him. And that, more than anything, drove all the pain from him.

Not all the pain, he supposed. There was always a dull ace in the knee that had been crushed with the destruction of the Reapers, and his shoulder stung when the weather turned foul. But the rest of it, the emotional pain, that was driven away by the sound of Ashley Williams' voice or the smile she saved for only him.

“Are you finished being secretive yet?”

“Well, get in here and you can see.”

He smiled to himself, limping slightly as he went inside from the porch and took a sharp left into the small kitchen of their small cabin. It was the perfect place for a war veteran and his wife, a commander of the new Alliance. Here the trees were still small, returning to their former glory before the invasion, and a small stream had been carved into the earth running along the outside edge of their property, pooling in the back yard where a missile had gouged a hole in the dirt. There was no one around for miles, because Shepard had been gifted the twenty acres of land their cabin was built on. They were trying to turn it into a forest, but the trees could only grow so quickly. Still, it was quiet and peaceful, and it helped Shpard live down some of the trauma he'd endured.

When he saw her, hands behind her back and a small smile lifting her lips, he knew she was proud of herself. And when she pulled the small cake iced in deep blue frosting from behind her back, full of small candles and lighting her face from beneath, he caught her grin and chuckled quietly.

“My birthday isn't until Thursday.”

“So?”

“It's Monday, Ash.”

“So that makes this a surprise.”

This was as close to a surprise party as Ashley could get for her husband. She'd learned once, just by inviting a few of their old friends to dinner as a surprise gathering, that it wasn't something the once hero could handle. He'd been nervous, anxious and stressed to the point of sweating and shaking on the ride there, and eventually she'd had to break down, stop the car,and calm him down enough to explain what was going on. He'd been alright, once he understood the plan, but ever after she gave him everything in advance. Except on occasions like this one.

“Come on, Shep, blow out the candles.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled just slightly as she smiled, and he obliged. It took one solid breath to blow them all out, and she kissed him quickly before he could pull away. Then she began cutting the cake, putting a large piece of the chocolate confection on a plate and handing it to him.

“We haven't eaten dinner yet-”

“Are you complaining about desert for dinner?” There was mirth in her eyes, and he shook his head quickly, taking the plate and offered fork. “That's what I thought. Besides, I bought some fruit for after, that makes this a healthy meal.”

He didn't argue with her logic. After all, they both knew what a healthy meal was, from years of eating healthy yet unsatisfying food to keep their bodies in top condition on a budget. So he sat down at the small kitchen table on the comfortable cushioned chair and took a large bite of the cake he'd neglected for too many years of his life.

Ashley sat opposite him, with a portion much smaller than his. She still had to cut the figure of a military woman, even though she wasn't on active duty. She only ate it because she knew she'd work it off with Shepard on their daily exercise regiment, because he needed something to keep him going.

“Joker has informed me that he and EDI are coming over sometime this week.”

“When?”

“You know Joker, whenever he gets around to it.” At the stress showing at the corners of his lips, Ashley continued, “EDI said she'd let us know as soon as she did, so it won't be a surprise. And I'll be here when they come-”

“You don't need to do that-”

“I want to. Do you think you're the only one who misses the team?”

Shepard sighed heavily. That wasn't the reason she was planning on skipping work to see them, but it was a conversation they'd had many times in the past. He hated being dependent on her, but they both knew he reacted better – especially with the unpredictable pilot – when there was someone steady and calm with him. Garrus could fill that role, mostly successfully, but Ashley was the best to have. Besides, it's not as if they'd miss the day's pay. They were not only being paid a small fortune as reward for Shepard's – and Ashley's – service,but they were receiving all kinds of royalties for plays, movies, books, commercials, and whatever else they wanted to use Shepard and his story for. But she enjoyed the work, and he knew that, which was why he protested so strongly to her taking time off for him.

“We should get them all back together again. It's too bad Lawson is across the pond.” 

Shepard snorted. “You don't have to pretend you like her, you know.”

“Yeah, well, she was a part of the team too.”

“A part of the team that you hated.”

“I didn't hate her!” Shepard stared at her until she sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don't hate her. I just don't approve of her putting the moves on you just because she rebuilt you.”

“Who says she put the moves on me?”

“I do. Shut up before you make me angry. Just thinking about her rebuilding you makes me jealous, let alone...” But she stopped before she really got into it, knowing that Shepard had nothing more to say. He was sorry, he'd needed someone, he'd thought Ashley hated him and they were done forever, they were just friends after all that, etcetera etcetera. There were only so many times they could argue about it, and that number had come and gone.

“How early do you have to leave tomorrow?” Shepard finally asked when the silence became too heavy. 

“My first meeting's not until eleven.”

“So you can stay up a little later tonight?”

“Well, I've got some errands I should run first, and there's still some paperwork for the...” She trailed off as she saw the suggestive look in his eyes, and she gave him a wicked grin. “Why, did you have something in mind?”

“Well, if it's my birthday-”

“Not until Thursday.”

“Then why the cake?”

“Just because I surprised you with cake does not mean you get two birthdays.”

“Au contraire, my lovely wife.” He put the last piece of cake in his mouth and stood, but just as he moved to step toward her his bad knee gave out beneath him and he fell to the floor, hard. Ash was up in a second, concerned, and he groaned and fell backward on the floor.

“My body just doesn't do what I tell it to anymore. Be smooth, and it breaks.”

“That wasn't exactly smooth.” She offered him a hand up, worry still creasing her forehead. But instead of letting her haul him to his feet, he pulled her down on top of him, guiding her so she lay flush with him. And then he pressed his lips to hers. He'd planned on taking her to the bedroom, but spontaneity wasn't all bad either.

***  
Ashley was already gone when Shepard woke the next morning, sore all over from their kitchen floor escapade. Worth it, certainly, but still. He wasn't fond of the pain in his neck or the aching from his bad knee. He struggled out of the bed, relying heavily on the furniture and walls to make it to the bathroom without falling. His knee was worse today. He'd probably need to go to the doctor, but a strong dose of pain killers was first. He didn't know if he could even make it to the medicine cabinet, but he managed, and soon he was downing several pills out of a prescription bottle. A long gulp of water washed them down, and then he saw on the edge of the tub and waited for them to kick in, flexing his right hand as he did so. Finally the pain had ebbed enough that he thought he could venture out the the kitchen, where he filled an ice pack, grabbed his book, and hobbled to the deck outside. There he would spend what was left of his morning, reading and letting his knee rest and ice. The book was fantasy, because it was similar to the war he'd experienced but not enough to give him horrible flashbacks. So he read about elves and dwarves, humans trying desperately to fit into worlds of other advanced races and hold their ground. He'd call the doctor when he got up for lunch, if his knee was still bothering him, and his regular physician would be at the cabin in an hour or two. He certainly wouldn't be pushing himself today, and he'd probably have to tell Ashley he couldn't work out with her later, for fear of damaging what little there was left of his knee. 

The sun was still trying to warm the chill of that night, but it was comfortable with the sweater he'd pulled off the kitchen chair. He settled in for a good hour of reading by sunlight in his favorite place in the galaxy, easily sinking into the words that took him from this life and let him live adventures he didn't have the ability to take any longer.

It was just after noon when the former commander reached a stopping point in his book and hesitantly rose, testing the knee that was giving him trouble. Still sore, but not so bad that he couldn't walk on it. So he limped into the kitchen for the leftovers from two days ago, glad to see Ashley had thought to put a cover on the dish he'd put in the fridge. Otherwise he'd have to cook something else, and he wasn't sure he trusted his knee to hold up long enough to make a decent meal. It was a simple matter to heat the dish, and he returned to his chair on the porch with a glass of water and his food, a pasta with hamburger and tomatoes from their garden. 

All of his time on the Normandy, no matter how wonderful some of those years had been, meant he'd missed a lot of time in fresh air with sunlight and bird song. He was determined to make up for that time, and so everyday when the weather was nice, he sat in his chair on the porch.

He had finished his meal and was washing a dish in the sink when he glanced out the window and saw a car pulling up to the front of the house. It was a heavy vehicle, with the windows tinted so dark it was impossible to see inside. A familiar feeling of dread crept through his body, something he hadn't felt since active duty. He limped over a few steps to the counter and reached into the back of the top drawer, where the familiar M-77 Paladin was hidden as a precaution. He quickly tucked it into the waistband of his pants and returned to the window, leaning heavily against the counter as he waited/

For a long time, nothing happened. He could see no movement inside the vehicle, and the vehicle itself seemed to have been shut off. He felt adrenaline begin to pulse through his veins as he waited, feeling that dread grow with every minute that passed.

The bullet that broke a hole through the windshield of the vehicle shattered the window above the sink and grazed Shepard's shoulder as he threw himself to the side, battle instincts taking over. He crept quickly to the living room, glancing out the side window to see the men in full armor scurrying from the vehicle, nasty assault rifles held in their hands. They were new, not a model that Shepard was familiar with, but they looked heavy duty and, judging by the way the bullet shot straight through the wall, they were overpowered. His Paladin was dated, had been setting in a drawer for years, and wasn't meant to stand up in a heavy fire fight like this seemed to be.

He ducked down when a bullet broke this window as well. They had good eyes, whoever they were. After several deep breaths, and stole to the basement door, where he'd stored the rest of the weapons left over from his military days. No one had dared take them away from him, and he'd promised never to use them unless he had to in order to make them feel better about the decision. This seemed like one of those times.

He made it halfway there when he heard the glass of a window shatter once more, and he heard the metal clink of a canister hitting the hardwood floors. He didn't have time to turn around before he heard the smoke start spluttering into the air. A few more steps and he felt his body start growing lax, not following the demands he was making of it. He cursed as he realized it was some kind of paralysis gas, and his body wasn't able to push through it. He fell to the ground, hard, his Paladin skittering across the floor and out of reach, try as he might to pull himself toward it. After several minutes, he completely lost motor function, and all he could do was wait for the men who were breaking down his door and stomping into his home.

“Shepard's alone.” The voice was rough, low, and clearly being spoken over a com to someone of more importance. “He's down. We'll have him to you within the day.”

There was a crackling response, and a grunted affirmative before the footsteps grew closer. Shepard would give just about anything to move his head and stare at his captor, to demand an explanation, but all he could do was watch the floor in front of him and wait. Soon enough, he was blindfolded and his hands were tied behind him, and hands under his arms hauled him to his feet. He kicked out and felt his foot connect with someone, could hear the 'oof' of breath being pushed from someone's lungs, but there was little after the butt of a gun connected with his back and he fell into darkness.

***  
He woke sometime later, still blindfolded, still with his arms behind his back, but the restraints seemed to be heavier, more permanent fixtures. He immediately began scoping out his surroundings; it was damp beneath him, and the rattle of chains when he moved echoed around what seemed to be a small space. It was also chilly, and the ground was hard and cold. A cement room of some kind, and probably below ground. They'd said within the day, but it had been near one when they'd come for him, so it couldn't be more than eleven hours from the cabin. If the security cameras by the mailbox and the drive had caught anything, Ashley would be able to track the vehicle and find him before anything too bad could happen. So all he had to do was wait out whatever trial these men – and their leader – had for him and soon he'd have back up. He didn't believe any longer that he could get himself out of the situation, not with old injuries and a lack of practice. But he could hold out.

He realized with a shock that he wasn't the only one in the room; there was light breathing, even and steady, coming from somewhere to his right and front. He listened, determined that the other person was resting, but it was impossible to know more than that.

“Hello?” He ventured, hoping to wake the other person and startle some information out of them. 

He heard a shuffling, the clinking of more chains, and a hesitant, “Shepard?”

He'd recognize the voice of someone from his old team anywhere. “Jack. What's going on?”

“Don't know. These creeps showed up at the school, threatening all the students if I didn't turn myself over. When I did, they threw me in here and left. Haven't heard anything else since.”

“Your biotics?”

“They took my amp and put a damn collar on me. Can't do shit.”

Shepard took a moment to absorb that information. They hadn't asked about him at all. Either they'd known they wouldn't get anything out of his friend, or they hadn't needed her for information on him. So what was the endgame? Why take them?

“You figuring a way to escape? Don't bother. They've thought of everything, so far.”

“There's a way. Don't give up on me yet.”

“Never do, Shep. Just being realistic.” She sighed heavily. “Do you think they've got the rest of the team?”

The commander was quiet, his thoughts immediately turned to Ashley. Unless they'd managed to steal her away from under the noses of all the military officials and councilors, she was still at home. It didn't make sense to come for Shepard and not her if it was something to do with the team, but it would have made more sense to take them both at the same time. 

What was she going home to? For the first time, Shepard felt a pang at what she would have experienced when she returned from work to find him gone, the house shot at, the door busted. There was probably some blood, but not enough to be life threatening. She would have panicked, for a minute, but then gotten straight to business. And the Alliance wouldn't let their hero be gone for long. They'd try to keep it quiet, so as not to send a panic, but they'd get it done.

“I don't know. I hope not.” That was the only answer he could give her, and she seemed to understand that. 

“The kids saw the men. They'll give an accurate description to the Alliance. And Williams will be needing you home for dinner or some shit. Besides, I'd like to see them try anything if they took off the collar. I'd blow them away.”

Shepard felt the grin stretch his cheeks. She was the same old Jack. If nothing else, he was glad he was with her.

They made small talk for a long while, and if not for their damp prison, the chains, and the blindfolds, it would have been pleasant to catch up with his old teammate. But it was difficult to be excited when he knew worse things were bound to happen, and odds were they didn't have much time until they did.

Shepard judged it to be several hours before the sound of the door opening on poorly oiled hinges echoed around the small space, almost deafening. He felt his body go alert automatically and was sure Jack had done the same. Their captors made no conversation, but the war hero was painfully aware of where the men were: from the clack of booted feet on the hard floor, the heavy breaths, the heat that rose their bodies. One of them knelt next to him and began fiddling with the chains, surely unlocking them so Shepard could be taken from the room. Jack wasn't invited, it seemed, as no one went to her.

She protested, loudly and profanely, but it didn't seem to rile the men who were pulling Shepard to his feet. With a gasp, he felt his knee go out, pain radiating from the stiff appendage. They didn't wait for him to get his footing,opting to drag him from the room to the sound of Jack's anger. He let them drag him, unwilling to dull his senses with unnecessary pain when he was in a situation beyond his control. Walking might save him dignity, but it wouldn't save his life at this point.

He kept track of the turns they took as he was dragged: right, left, then the path seemed to curve slightly to the left, not a sharp turn like those previously. A set of doors opened, heavy and metal by the sound of it, and the smell of fresh air hit him. They were going up stairs, each edge hitting his ankles and surely leaving bruises. He could see light through the ragged blindfold over his eyes, and could hear birds outside what had to be open windows, judging by the breeze. He could hear waves beating against a shore, and the faint scent of salt permeated the air. There was something familiar about what his senses were detecting, but he couldn't pinpoint why. If he could only see, maybe he would know.

They took him left down a darker corridor, and the smells and sounds slowly faded until he was left once again with only the dank damp of before. Even in this situation, he could be disappointed about that. But he didn't have long, because after the sound of a door creaking open and a few steps, they let him sag to the floor, just one hand on his shoulder to keep control. 

He heard a quiet conversation in front of him: two men, conferring in whispers. He couldn't catch the words, but one of the voices sounded strangely familiar. He strained his hearing, but he couldn't come to any solid conclusions about the speaker. It just tingled on the edges of his mind, begging to be made known...

As soon as the man spoke up, Shepard recognized that voice. All emotion drained out of him, all comprehension. He'd done well keeping his bearings, despite everything, but this... this was too much. This would take him down, ruin him in a way nothing else had.

"It's been a long time, Shepard."

It took several minutes to remember how to speak, but even then he had nothing to say. Where have you been? What's going on? How are you alive? But it couldn't be true. It was a recording or something. it wasn't him. Couldn't be him. The former commander had known with absolute certainty that he had failed to save the member of his crew. His heart had been heavy for so long afterward, the guilt had dragged him through the pain every night when he let his guard down in sleep. He'd only started to recover once the Reapers were gone and there was some sense of justice for his old friend.

He heard the rustle of fabric, felt the warmth of a person kneeling before him. And the smell was right, the same soap and the same pomade. 

He felt the blindfold moving, and soon harsh light hit his eyes and he was forced to close them, put off the moment of recognition for just a little while longer. But once he felt his eyes were adjusted enough, he squinted at the man kneeling before him. Chocolate brown eyes scanned his face, watching for any sign of danger, but Shepard was in too much shock to respond in kind.

In front of him was Kaidan Alenko, the man who'd died to save Ashley Williams.

Everything in the commander wanted to shut down, and he had to fight back the threat of losing consciousness. Because that would be so much easier than facing the fact that Alenko, much like Shepard, hadn't been lost. But no one had gone to find the biotic.

The guilt crashed over him all over again, but at least that was something. The numb of moments before had been inexcusable, especially when he knew there was danger in this situation. He wouldn't be in chains otherwise. As much as he wanted to sink into the familiarity of that face, he had to be a soldier again. 

"How are you alive?" The logical question, but also the thing Shepard most wanted to know. It would tell him whether or not he could trust this man again, and if there was something dark that he would need to warn the Alliance about. Because he couldn't get back in this again. He couldn't.

"You've done the same thing, Shepard."

"So you-"

"I was never dead, Shepard. Hurt, yes. You can see the scars, if you look closely. There was a lot of burned tissue, a lot of time spent alone, healing. But I'm alive, and-"

"Where have you been?" He couldn't let himself get caught up in Alenko's enthusiasm. He couldn't let himself get caught up. 

"I couldn't come back. I had other obligations. You understand."

“I understand?”

“You went with Cerberus, after they rebuilt you. I had to pay back my saviours as well. But I'm finished now.”

“Why am I in chains, Kaidan? Why was my door broken down so you could throw me in a cell? Why are you doing this?”

Kaidan frowned, as if that didn't make sense to him either. But just as soon as Shepard thought he would do something, the expression changed, going completely blank. 

“Kaidan?”

And then, without warning, Kaidan's fist met Shepard's cheek, and he was thrown to the side. The hand on his shoulder fell away as he fell against the floor, and the pain as his injured shoulder came in contact with the cement made his eyes burn and his breath catch. But he didn't let his face change. He didn't want to give the satisfaction. 

After a moment, he was hauled back to his knees. Kaidan was pacing, back and forth, his arms crossed and his body tense. Shepard watched him warily, prepared for another attack. And it came, after several long minutes of waiting. A fist to the stomach, another to the face, and he was on the ground again. And again. He retreated into himself when the pain became too much, when he was afraid he might break if he was completely present. And it continued.

Finally he registered that the beating had stopped, for at least a little bit. He allowed himself to become aware again, to prepare for whatever was coming next. Kaidan was standing in front of him, panting, sweat dripping down his face. Shepard was distantly aware of the blood on his face, mirroring that motion.

“I don't want anything, Shepard.” Kaiden's words came between pants, which led Shepard to believe his former friend was not as in shape as he looked. “I don't want anything from you, you can't give me anything that I desire. I thought I was bringing you here to join me. I was ready to coerce you using Jack, threaten Williams, show you the power you'd have if you joined me. But when I saw you, I knew... I don't want you on my side, Shepard. I just want you dead.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Shepard was back in the cell, chained to the wall and still reeling from the knowledge he'd just gained, he took comfort in Jack's presence. Even if she was yelling profanities at the closed door between demanding to know what he'd found out.

And if Kaidan's plan had changed from forcing the retired war-hero to joining his side whatever the cost, one of two things could happen; they would ignore Jack, because they no longer figured into their plans, or they would kill her for the same reason. She was a handful, and now she was an unnecessary handful.

“Jack, stop.” She listened, quieting immediately, which was very surprising. Maybe she grasped the reality of the situation. Maybe she just needed someone else to take command. He could speculate for hours, but not near as quickly or as well as when he'd been a true leader.

“Tell me what's going on, Shepard.” Even the threat in her tone, the implied 'or else,' is a comfort. It was exactly what he expected, in this world where nothing really made sense anymore.

“It's Kaidan.”

“Who the hell is Kaidan?”

Oh yes. He'd forgotten that she had never known the man. Sometimes it seemed like everyone in his crew had been there the whole time, that they should know everyone else. 

“He was part of the crew when I first took over the Normandy. He... we thought he'd died, back on Virmire.”

“Ah, the pre-Jack biotic, got it. I won't ask how he's alive, since clearly you don't have a clue. Just tell me what we do now. What's he want? To have a tea party and reminisce about old times? Seems like the kind of pussy thing he'd do-”

“Jack-”

“Yeah yeah, I didn't know the guy, but he's not dead so I can say shit about him. Especially since he's got me in chains, blindfolded against a wall. And he threatened my kids. No one threatens my kids.”

“Fair point.” Shepard slumped against the wall, closing his eyes. “He's... not what he used to be. I don't know what he's going to do next, but it's not going to be pretty.”

“Seems like an unstable pussy, if you ask me. And I'm pretty well acquainted with unstable.”

“Jack-”

“So what do we do?”

Shepard didn't have an answer for that. He was still processing the situation, hoping this was a nightmare instead of the reality he feared. He had a feeling it wouldn't truly feel real until he knew how it had happened, what exactly had happened to Kaidan in his time away from the Alliance and how he had become the person he had turned into.  
“Okay, fine, looks like I gotta take lead on this one.” Shepard could hear her struggling against her chains, straining against the metal that held her down and the collar that bound her powers. It took him a moment to realize that he could also see her doing those things: they'd never put his blindfold back on him. And while it wasn't much of an advantage, it was better than the circumstances of before.

He watched Jack struggle, for a minute forgetting to tell her his advantage. But as he watched, he noticed that when she pulled a certain way, her chain loosened. Not much, not enough for her to tell, but just...

“Do that again.” 

Jack froze, and she swung her head around in what was certainly an unamused expression, but he couldn't see it. 

“Do what again?” Her voice was flat, clearly thinking her commander had lost his marbles, but Shepard ignored it. He was good at ignoring Jack's jibes. 

“Pull against it- yeah, like that.” He watched as Jack repeated her motions, pulling at the chain again. A little piece of the cement behind her crumbled where the chain was located. “That mount, it's not set well, the wall around it is weak. Keep pulling at that one.”

She was still for a moment before she grinned. “They forgot to blindfold you again, didn't that? Idiots.” She repeated that motion, and after a moment her grin widened. “You're right. If I can get this arm free...” Shepard watched her move, a small grin on his face. If he could just forget who their captor was, he could do this. There was hope for them yet.

\---

It had to be several hours later that footsteps stopped outside their door. Maybe it was days; it was hard to tell with no sunlight to tell the changing of the hours. Jack had grown tired of pulling at the wall, which only gave a minuscule amount every time she put all of her strength into it. She was taking a break, which was fortunate. If the guards saw what she was doing, they'd move her and they'd have to start over again. They probably wouldn't get as lucky the second time.

When they opened the door, Shepard didn't turn his head to look at them. They didn't deserve that from him, and he also knew it would only give away the slightest of fears showing through his eyes. He wasn't ready to die. Not when he'd finally settled down into a life in which it wasn't a probability, not when he'd finally found some place he could always be happy.

They didn't come in, but Shepard soon heard the sound of something – plastic, maybe? - hitting the floor and sliding towards first Jack, then him, before the door closed. Shepard looked at the tray of dry bread and water that they'd pushed to his feet, and sighed. The food of dead men, for what was the point of really nourishing someone who wouldn't have time to appreciate it?

“Dinner.” Shepard said quietly to Jack, realizing his own hunger. He used his feet to push the tray up to his hands, where he picked up the bread and smelled it. At least it didn't seem to be moldy. There was something to be grateful for.

“So they do mean to kill us, the asshats.” Jack muttered as she did much the same thing as Shepard. She ripped into the bread with her teeth, barely able to reach her mouth with her bound hands. 

“You need to keep working that chain. They don't have a reason to keep you here.”

Jack froze, her head turned in Shepard's direction. Even with the blindfold, he knew exactly what look she was giving him. “Are you going to reveal their evil plot, Shepard?”

“They...” It still didn't feel real to him. He had to tell himself it wasn't Kaidan doing this in order to get the words out. “You were supposed to be leverage, but... Kaidan decided he'd rather just see me dead. So they don't need either of us.”

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “So typical bad guys, then. Once I get this collar off, we'll get out of here. They won't be able to stop me.”

“I believe you.” He just didn't know if they could get the collar off of her, or if they could do it in time. But those weren't things a leader said to his team, and Shepard was still a leader, even if he was no longer a soldier.

\----

When she went to sleep that night, Ashley Williams relived the terror of finding her house destroyed and her husband missing.

She pulled into the driveway in a good mood; she'd had a good day working on the rebuilding of laws that related directly to the armed forces, and she'd also had word from EDI that she and Joker would be around next weekend, and they'd have a few days to spend with Shepard. She was excited to be able to tell Shepard, especially so far in advance, that their friends would be coming, only to have everything completely wiped from her mind as she saw the shattered windows and the broken down door.

She didn't even take the keys out of the ignition, barely managed to put the car in park before she was running inside, all of her worst fears running through her head. If he was lying dead on their floor, so help him... She couldn't deal with that. She'd finally accepted that no one was going to come after them, no one would hurt them for something they'd done while trying to save the universe. If she'd come to that only to find him dead because it wasn't true, because she'd let her guard down and sent home the men who had been standing by to watch the house every single day...

When she saw the blood, she barely contained the howl of rage and pain. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead. He was better than that, he'd survived so much worse, almost died more times than she could count, did die once and came back. To die alone in his own home, unable to properly defend himself because of wounds received while hunting down their single greatest enemy...

But there wasn't enough blood. It looked like a lot, the way it was smeared across the floor, but in reality it wasn't much. She knew that, logically. She also knew by the puddle and the drips leading to the door that he'd been down for a few minutes before they'd hauled him out. 

She ran to the computer in the basement, checking the security footage. She watched as the vehicle pulled up, saw her husband pull the Paladin out of its hiding place, saw him get grazed and watched him fall to the paralysis caused by the gas. And dammit, all the men and women caught by the cameras had their faces covered. 

But the vehicle had a license plate. It belonged to someone. She had something.

It was a quick call to the Alliance to report her husband missing, and they told her ten minutes. Then they'd be on her property, examining each and every bullet hole and scuff. They'd find Shepard.

It was only then that she'd let herself feel the gaping hole where her heart should be.

She woke gasping for breath, reaching over to feel Shepard only to remember that it wasn't just a dream. That she wasn't in her own bed, she was in an unfamiliar suite in an unfamiliar hotel. No one knew where she was, because they couldn't trust anyone in times like these. 

She found herself asking when they'd returned to 'times like these.' She thought they'd defeated such times in the same battle as the Reapers. But they always came back, these times. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She stood and wrapped a robe around her body, frowning at the soft, plush feel as it brushed her stomach. She was still getting used to plush and soft. Shepard felt the same way, and so most of their home was furnished in functional over comfortable. This hotel room, however, was made for comfort. And it just drove home the fact that she wasn't home. That her husband was missing and her house was a crime scene. And they wouldn't let her be on the case, because she was too close.

Everyone was too close. There wasn't a single person who wasn't too close to this case, because it was Shepard. He had saved literally everyone on the planet. The only enemies he had were those who thought he hadn't acted fast enough, had lost someone important before it had been ended. And those were people in mourning, not people out to kill him.

There wasn't anyone Ashley could think of who would want to kill Shepard.

Crazy fan, maybe. But would a crazy fan really break down the front door and cause the hero to bleed? That seemed unlikely.

What she wanted more than anything was a walk in the cool air under the moon and stars, but she was forbidden from leaving her room without guards. Once they were involved, the relaxing walk was rendered useless. So she paced her room, which probably agitated her more than anything else.

Shepard would be in for the scolding of his life when she found him. Alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been holding on to this for a while, with the intention of making it longer, but I haven't been able to come up with a good way to do that, so here it is! Chapters will probably be about this length from now on. Thanks for reading, loves!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers. Thank you for choosing this little fic, and I hope you enjoy my dabbles into post Mass Effect. I hope to continue this, but as my muse comes and leaves (as readers of my other fics know), I can't make any promises. Thanks again!


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